


The Seven Loves

by aquilanovae (artistfire13)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Everyone is friends, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Lance deserves happiness, M/M, Panic Attacks, Self-Love, Slow Burn, Snapshots, Supportive Shiro (Voltron), it's gonna be really cute and then it's going to fuck you up, seven types of love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-08 00:34:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11070345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artistfire13/pseuds/aquilanovae
Summary: love (n.)/ləv/1: strong affection for another arising out of kinship or personal ties2 : warm attachment, enthusiasm, or devotionsyn. fondness, attachment, intimacyOrigin: Latin lubēre, libēre (to please)Lance's journey in finding the seven types of love.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I've already planned out the entire plot of this and god do I hate myself.  
> Lance deserves the world and this is shameless self-indulgence right up until it's not. (The epitome of: aw fuck, I can't believe you've done this)

Lance McClain would deny it until the day he died, but when he was younger he had watched all of the Cuban soap operas on the shitty ass cable TV they had. Every single one.

He would cuddle up with his older sisters under the quilt his _abuelita_ had knitted for him and watch the dramatic and corny romances late at night, just as an excuse to stay up and close with Gabby and Maria. Later, his _mamá_ would joke that he got his flamboyant and loud personality from watching one too many of them and Lance laughed along, quoting a melodramatic line from an episode.

Love wasn’t anything foreign for Lance. He loved and had been loved for as long as he could remember because with a family as large as his, it was hard not to feel the warm affection at any given time in the day. As he grew up, that love extended to anyone that was close and kind, a love that was all-encompassing and pure.

He had never been in love though. Romance, the kind that he had seen on shitty TV late at night, the kind that Gabby and Maria had giggled at and sighed for, wasn’t something Lance thought he had ever actually encountered. Sure, as he got older, he was attracted to girls and he flirted but it was a game. It was fun. At first it had been intentional, back when he was still in middle school and thought the crush he had on Sara Lopez was true love. But then, after rejection after rejection, it became less as a way to portray interest but more of a way to make the girls smile or laugh. He liked how a girl’s eyes would light up with mirth after a particularly bad pickup line, or blush happily at a genuine compliment. Even the ones who rolled their eyes or scoffed would quirk a smirk from his ridiculousness, which was more than enough for Lance.

So he kept flirting. He kept loving but he stayed out of love.

And he refused to believe he felt lonely because of it.


	2. Philia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> philia.  
> (/ˈfɪljə/ or /ˈfɪliə/)  
> -friendship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I can't believe I actually updated something.

_philia._

_(/ˈfɪljə/ or /ˈfɪliə/)_

_-friendship_

 

_In Aristotle's Nicomachean Ethics, philia is usually translated as "friendship" or affection._

 

Space was big. It was big and dark and so, so empty.

_(He was far. So, so far away from home-)_

But it was okay. He had Pidge and Hunk with him, a sense of familiarity that he could surround himself with when it all became too much. He liked the castle, and he had Allura and Coran and Shiro and Blue. He loved being a paladin, helping aliens, fighting evil, and exploring galaxies he could have never dreamed up on Earth. He did.

_(He didn’t stay up at night thinking about how alone he felt here; how he might never get back home-)_

He also had Keith, which he still didn’t know was good thing or not. He wasn’t prideful enough to not admit that Keith not recognizing him that fateful night hurt. Though, being remembered as ‘that cargo pilot’ probably hurt more, reminding him yet again that Keith was still the flying genius ace and Lance was just the lucky boy from Cuba, bumped up from cargo pilot like an afterthought. 

But he didn’t hate him. Lance couldn’t hate him. Yet, they weren’t exactly friends, not exactly enemies. It was something in between.

_(It probably stressed Lance out more than the constant brushes with death and the overwhelming warning of destruction and tyranny of the entire universe.)_

Lance was a nice guy. He was social and charismatic and naturally the life of the party. So meeting and then _living_ with Keith was definitely a rude awakening, a similar experience to being dunked with a bucket of cold ice water at six in the morning by his niece and nephew on Christmas Day.

He just couldn’t catch a break with the guy. It was like everything he did was wrong, and everything he said was insulting or annoying, even when he wasn’t trying to be. That morning, Lance had greeted him at breakfast with a “Keith-o!” and a friendly shoulder punch, and Keith looked at him like he had killed his pet dog, which had lingered on his mind ever since.

He sighed, letting an arm fall from the couch to the floor of the common room, where he had stayed since training. Pidge ignored him completely, so he sighed again louder and more obnoxiously. They closed their eyes, groaned and set aside their laptop to cross their arms and glare at Lance, who was by now taking over the entire couch with his limbs.

“What?” hissed Pidge.

“Why do you think Keith hates me?” Lance asked. Pidge raised an eyebrow.

“Would you like the list to be ordered least-to-greatest or alphabetically?”

“I’m serious Pidge!” he protested, “it’s like he can’t stand to be in the same room with me for more than fifteen minutes.”

“I can’t stand to be in the same room with you for more than fifteen minutes.”

“We’ve been here for an hour!”

“A true act of sacrifice on my part, it’s true.”

Lance kicked somewhere near Pidge’s head. “I just want to, you know, be able to cohabitate with him. I can’t live with a guy who hates me, even if he’s my rival.”

Pidge rolled their eyes. “How about, you know, talk to him like a normal human being and stop goading him every ten seconds about this bullshit rivalry you think you guys have.”

“It’s a rivalry Pidge! Remember the Garrison!”

“Lance, we’re at least ninety million light years away from the Garrison! In a flying space castle! In space! Literally who cares about the Garrison!”

Lance frowned, but shrugged acknowledging their point. “Whatever. Even if he’s _not_ my rival, which he totally is by the way, I don’t want him to want _me_ dead.”

“He doesn’t want you dead, for fuck’s sake Lance. He just can’t put up with your shit as well as the rest of us can.”

“I think that was an insult so I’m going to act insulted.” He paused to gasp over-exaggeratedly. “How dare you! Mocked! In my own home! ”

Pidge shoved him off of the couch and turned their attention back to their laptop. “And just like that, Pidge’s Patience Meter is finally up! Go bother someone else. Or make friends with Keith. I don’t care.”

If being unceremoniously dropped on the hard castle floor and then told off bothered him, Lance didn’t show it and brushed himself off as he got up. “So just, talk to him?”

“Yes, Lance. Bye, Lance.”

“About what though?”

“ _Bye,_ Lance.”

“I know I am, but what are you?” smirked Lance, throwing Pidge finger guns as he started walking out of the common room. Pidge threw a throw pillow at him in response.

***

It wasn’t hard finding Keith, since everyone was aware he spent the majority of his free time in the training room anyway. It’s probably why they don’t see each other anymore than necessary, since, Lance mused, he avoided the training room and physical activity like the plague unless it was compulsory.

“Maybe I’ll just offer to spar with him, instead of talking,” Lance muttered to himself, “it’ll be a way to bond or whatever. It’s not like he has any other interests apparently.”

When Lance actually got to the training room, however, he activated the door and immediately was hit by an intense heat washing over him when it slide open, all musings and considerations melting away.

“Shit, Keith,” he blurted out without thinking, “I sure hope you’re wearing clothes in this fucking sauna.”

“I don’t think we’re ready for that part of our relationship yet,” Keith deadpanned from the side of the room, drawing Lance’s attention to the other paladin.

Lance blinked at him from the entrance, staring at Keith as he dried his sweating face and arms with a towel. Finally, he started, and grinned.

“That was a joke! That was an actual, honest to god joke!”

Keith gave him an unimpressed look. “What do you want Lance.”

“I mean, I know you didn’t have any friends and you lived in the desert by yourself for a while too, so like, I wasn’t sure if you had it in you-”

“Did you come in here just to disrespect me?”

Lance backtracked. “No! Wait, I’m here to bond!”

Keith looked at him in silence, his eyebrows furrowed with disbelief. “Ok,” he finally sighed,  “I’ll bite. What the fuck?”

“Uh, I wanted to spar with you?” Lance was well aware how much of a mess he was making of this, and he knew Keith wasn’t going to let it go as easily as Hunk or Shiro did.

“You come in here unannounced, insult me, and then ask to fight?”

“I mean, you like fighting, right?” he tried weakly, “It’s basically the only thing you do.”

Keith had strided over closer to Lance by now, close enough to see how exhausted he actually was, and crossed his arms.

“I fight,” Keith explained slowly, like Lance was particularly dumb, “because we’re in a war against thousands of aliens, singlehandedly trying to save the universe. We don’t have much time to train so I take whatever time we do have to get better. It’s more than what I can say for _you_.”

Lance frowned and opened his mouth to retort, but Keith continued on over him.

“Besides, something in the room is broken. The heat’s been rising for over an hour, there’s no way we can stay in here for much longer. I’m going to go find Coran.”

Lance chewed on his lip as he watched Keith start to walk away and out the room without another word, and made a split decision.

“Wait, I’ll come with you,” he called, and jogged to catch up with him.

Whatever Keith had expected him to do was definitely not that, and he stopped suddenly, just to stare at him.

“What do you want from me?” he asked suspiciously, looking around now. For what, Lance didn’t know.

“Thought you might want someone to keep you company,” Lance shrugged as they started walking again, “so you don’t go back to being all angsty again.”

“You thought wrong.”

“Wonderful weather we’re having, don’t you think?”

“We’re in space Lance.”

“Loving the eternal and endless void in all directions and times.”

Keith inhaled deeply. “You’re insufferable, did you know that.”

“I’ve been told it’s one of my better traits, yes.”

“Boys!” Coran called out cheerfully from the end of the hall behind them, and Lance cringed. Keith side-eyed him and raised an eyebrow in question.

“I know that tone,” Lance mumbled under his breath, “maybe if we walk away fast enough and pretend we didn’t hear him, he’ll find someone else to do whatever task from hell he wants us to do.”

“I’m afraid not, Lance!” Coran materialized in between the two, startling both of them and making Lance stumble over his feet and Keith bump back into the wall.

“What the fuck-”

“How did you-”

“I need you boys to do me a quick favor,” he continued over them as if they hadn’t interrupted, “it’ll be a right jiffy, don’t worry!”

“You said that last time too, with those generator gems,” Lance accused, eyeing the Altean suspiciously. “It took me eleven vargas to pick out all the copper imperfections.”

“This won’t take eleven vargas, I promise! And since there’s two of you, it’ll be even faster.”

“What do you need Coran?” asked Keith, unphased by the look of disappointment and betrayal Lance sent his way. “I was going to find you about the training room anyway.”

“That’s what I’m here for, my boy. The hydronic heat pump’s clogged up and it’s why some of the rooms in the castle are so warm. I need you two to go down there and clean out the main tubes.”

Keith shrugged. “Okay. It doesn’t seem too hard. Lance and I can do it.” Lance closed his eyes and prayed for a quick death.

***

“It doesn’t seem too hard,” Lance grumbled, panting for breath, “famous last words by one Keith Kogane.”

“Shut up,” Keith grunted, pushing at the metal door sheet, “Stop complaining and keep pushing.”

“Oh yeah, and I’ll just offer Lance into all this too,” Lance continued, ignoring him and shifting onto his shoulder to push at a better angle, “it’s not like he has an opinion and all.”

They both sighed with relief when the metal hinge popped and the tube door opened.

“Okay, but how was I supposed to know the tubes were literally ten feet tall,” Keith retorted.

“I told you, Coran’s little chores are anything but _little.”_

“Fine, whatever, we just need to find whatever is backing up the systems, clean it out, and we can go back upstairs and never talk to each other again, deal?”

Lance frowned, but didn’t reply, instead following Keith into the tube with a bucket and shovel in hand.

It was hard to see in the tube, with the only light source outside of the door. After Lance’s eyes had adjusted though, he was able to take in just how big the pump was.

“This is huge,” Lance gaped, turning around and tilting his head up, to see a large circular rod. “You could fit a car in here.”

“That’s where the clogging probably is,” Keith pointed at an array of metal pipes, twisting in and out of each other on the other side of the cylinder. Squinting, Lance approached it next to Keith, who switched on a flashlight he found next to the door. “Altean battery life,” Keith muttered, and Lance huffed.

“There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with it,” Lance wondered out loud. Keith hummed, and then handed his bucket to Lance. “Here, hold this.”

Taking a wrench he brought with him, he carefully twisted at a pipe, tugging it until an aching noise warned them a second too late and it burst open.

“Dude what the hell you broke it,” Lance coughed, waving away dust and whatever had come out of the pipes.

“How did you expect to clean it then,” Keith retorted as tried to brush off his clothes.

“What is this?” Lance brought the substance on his fingers closer to his eyes, trying to see in the dark.

“It’s,” Keith started slowly, “glitter.”

“The hydraulics water must have gotten contaminated while ago and started making a bunch of some kind of lime.” Lance traced where the edges of the machinery were particularly encrusted.

“What kind of liquid would make pink glitter as a by-product,” Keith muttered, sneezing.

“I don’t know Keith,” Lance said, with his back to him, “but you have to admit-”

Keith yelped in protest, starting as Lance dunked a handful into Keith’s hair, and rubbed it in.

“It goes pretty well with your hair, don’t you think?” He grinned gleefully.

Keith kicked at Lance’s knee, making him go down in a puff of pink. He grabbed his own handful and then grabbed Lance’s jacket, keeping him still as he struggled.

“Wait, Keith, wait-”

“No, no, I think it goes better with your skin. Highlights it, ” Keith drawled darkly, and then crammed the glitter down the back of his shirt. Lance shrieked at the contact and shoved at Keith, wrestling with him trying to get the upperhand, their shouts ringing out in the space. Keith pushed Lance back hard enough to knock against the tube wall when a loud crash made them both jump and suddenly enclosed them in darkness.

“The door,” Lance gasped, “it closed.”

Lance could hear Keith reach out and find the metal of the tube. Carefully, he slide down next to where Lance was sitting, exuding heat from their overexertion.

They stared out at the mess in front of them, sitting side by side in stunned silence covered in sweat and itchy, neon, pink glitter.

“I think I have glitter in my underwear,” Keith finally broke the quiet.

Lance couldn’t help it. He snorted. And when he started, he couldn’t stop until he was laughing so hard his stomach hurt and he was gasping for air. He didn’t know the exact moment when Keith joined him, but when he came back to his senses he was able to hear Keith’s raspy laugh echoing with his.

“You know what Keith,” Lance finally managed, grinning in the dark, “you’re actually not that bad.”

Keith blinked, and then quirked a smirk that bled into his voice. “You, on the other hand, are pretty awful.”  
Lance laughed, nudging his shoulder. “Oh, fuck you.”

They sat there in the dark, quiet with only their breathing and the traces of their laughter. It was the calmest Lance had felt in a while.

“So what are we telling Coran?”

Lance’s smile slipped.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please feel free to leave any suggestions or constructive criticism in the comments! Kudos give me a reason to live :')


	3. Ludus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ludus.  
> (/ˈluː.dus/)  
> -playful love

_ ludus. _

_ (/ˈluː.dus/) _

_ -playful love _

 

_ Latin poetry often explores the concept of ludus as playfulness.... used by those who see love as a desiring to want to have fun with each other.  _

 

Being a paladin surprisingly led to a lot more downtime than Lance expected. Despite the missions, training exercises, and lectures, the paladins often had a large chunk of time to themselves. Time was weird in the castle, of course, with no sun to dictate day and night. Allura and Coran had set up a system so the humans could be more comfortable but it still was unsettling waking up in the morning with a never-ending expanse of black outside the windows instead of the gentle morning dawn. Lance never let himself think about it for too long. 

_ (It reminded him too much of how strange and different his new life in space actually was.) _

The downtime, however, led to an awful amount of silence in the castle. Even though everyone typically stayed sequestered in one wing, the area was so large that sometimes Lance didn’t see another person for an entire day-cycle. 

_ (The cloying silence surrounding him threatened to bury him alive, suffocating him without a second thought, forgotten, alone in a dark room and never found-) _

So Lance made it his personal hobby to make noise. Preferably with other people, but he would take what he could get. When he woke up, he greeted everyone in his family picture on the bedside table, out loud in the cool, dark bedroom that had become his own. The photo was wrinkled and worn, stuffed in the back of his wallet with the thought that he had plenty of better, brighter photos at in his dorm anyway, this was just a keepsake to carry close. To always have family close by. 

_ (It was something he regretted when he couldn’t remember the color of his brother’s eyes; the photo was too damaged to tell.) _

He sang in the bathroom, going through his morning care routine. He wasn’t an amazing singer, maybe above average, but it wasn’t the quality that mattered, it was the content. He sang every old Spanish song he remembered someone singing in his house, every pop song he had heard on the radio back on Earth, sometimes even the nursery rhymes he had sung to his niece and nephew when they were toddlers. 

_ (He sang those a little quieter though, in case someone happened to be walking by outside the door.) _

And he talked. He talked a lot. Some of it was to himself, when he was alone, but most of it was the others, wherever he could find them. Six months, or so he thought, into the Voltron mission, everyone had more or less settled into niches they could be comfortable in, and Lance had memorized those schedules. He could expect Hunk either in the kitchen or with Pidge building something, experimenting. Pidge was typically in the castle workroom, a large and spacious room with metal walls that matched the metal tables that Pidge had taken over with their gadgets and inventions. Shiro was usually with Allura or Coran in the command room, with Keith in the training room, or in the castle library reading about the Galra. And Lance didn’t have to consider where Keith probably was. 

Lance wasn’t sure what his niche was, but he told himself it was to brighten up the place a bit. Everyone was so busy and boring so Lance’s responsibility was to find things that would cheer everyone up. He had always been good at that, as the little baby of the family. 

_ (He couldn’t think of anything else he was good for.) _

Lance yawned as he walked past the kitchen, not finding Hunk, but paused suddenly outside the doorway. He eyed the tube in the top corner of a dusty, open cupboard, innocuous and almost slipping his gaze. He had to reach a bit to grab it, but he made a pleased sound when he got his prize and opened it to see what it was. He gave it a couple of sniffs, and squirted a little out on his fingers, testing the texture. 

Lance grinned. He knew what he was doing today. 

***  
The plan was simple, but risky. There was a huge chance of someone suddenly breaking from routine and visit their bedroom during the day, busting Lance. He had crept into the bedroom hallway, stopping in front of his own before trying to decide who his victim would be. 

It couldn’t be Hunk, mostly because he was too pure and didn’t deserve anyone messing with him. Pidge was just scary, and Lance didn’t want to imagine the expression of utter disappointment in Shiro’s face. So there was clearly only one obvious choice. 

Keith’s room was unsurprisingly bland and empty. He didn’t have any trinkets or souvenirs decorating the furniture, and his bed was done in a harsh military fashion. Lance went for the bathroom, and carefully opened the door, checking inside before going in. 

“Where’s your conditioner?” Lance mumbled under his breath, slightly horrified at the single bottle of shampoo in the shower stall. Shuddering, he grabbed the single bottle and carefully popped the cap off. Then he filled the bottle up with the gooey dye he had found, gave it a good shake and hurriedly put it back where he had found it. 

 

Lance heard Keith before he actually saw him, thundering down the hallway. The doors were automated but Lance knew that Keith had made the effort to slam it open in frustration. It took all of two seconds for Keith to scan the room, zone in on Lance, and narrow his eyes with hatred. 

“You,” he spat, seething in the doorway.

“Keith-o!” Lance cheered happily, grinning. 

Allura gasped and Pidge snorted into their goo. 

“I don’t know how,” Keith growled, and paced up to Lance’s chair, “but I  _ know _ you did this.” 

“What do you mean Keithy? You’re going to have to be more specific.”

Keith physically pulled Lance out of his chair, making him whelp, and held him up a couple of inches in the air. 

“I mean the fact that my hair’s bright fucking orange, you fucking asshole!” 

“Woah there, Keith!” Lance shouted, twisting out of his grasp, “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” 

The shouting had brought Shiro and Hunk into the dining room, to see what the commotion was.   
Shiro took one look at Keith and burst into hysterical laughter, leaning his arm against the doorway for support. Hunk was a bit more subdued, looking conflicted as to whether or not he should step in or just watch the spectacle. 

“Keith,” Shiro choked, “I know Coran’s a role model for you but don’t you think this is a bit too much?” 

Keith sputtered, turning his attention to Shiro which was enough for Lance to get back on his feet. Once he was what he thought was a safe enough distance away, he grinned crookedly back at Keith. “I don’t know, if you ask me, it’s an improvement.”

Keith  _ lunged.  _

***

And thus began what Pidge dubbed “The Great Prank War of Space That Lance Was Losing,” despite his vehement disagreement. Two days after the hair dye, Lance woke up to his entire room covered in bubble wrap. Floors, walls, even the clothes in his drawers, each individually wrapped and popped loudly with every movement. Soon, staying in the room proved too much for him and he started seeking refuge on the sitting room couch from the crunching. 

Lance didn’t even have it in himself to be pissed. All he felt was incredulous respect and a desire to know where the fuck Keith had found so much bubble wrap in the middle of fucking space, because Keith refused to acknowledge the prank when confronted. 

“Keith I know it was you!” Lance huffed, waving his arms. Keith slowly raised an eyebrow. 

“You know what was me? I have no idea what you’re talking about. All I’m hearing is slander of my good name,” Keith said tonelessly. Lance spotted the barely-there twitch of his lips though, and he whipped his finger out, pointing at his face mock-accusatory.

“You’re laughing! You’re laughing Kogane! I can see it!” 

“Lance, I have never once laughed in my life.”

“Keith!” Lance whined, letting his head fall back and hit the wall. He heard a snort, but when Lance snapped his head up, Keith was watching the wall stoically. 

Next was the salt. About a week after the bubble wrap, Keith wandered into the kitchen sleepily. 

“Morning Keith,” Hunk said cheerfully, “want breakfast?” 

He mumbled unintelligibly but thankfully Hunk slid a plate in front him when he plopped down in his chair. It took him a few minutes to fully awaken his taste buds, but when they did-

“Hunk,” Keith tried patiently, after struggling to swallow. “How much salt did you use?” 

Hunk looked confused, and almost a little worried. The others froze and warily watched Keith, warning him to tread carefully. 

“Are you questioning Hunk’s cooking ability Keith?” Pidge asked lowly, deadly. 

“No! No, I’m just saying-”

“Is there too much salt? Oh god, no, I knew it, I’m sorry Keith, I’m a failure-” 

“No Hunk, it’s-”

Allura took a spoonful of Keith’s breakfast and chewed it thoughtfully. “It tastes absolutely fine to me.” She glared distrustfully at Keith.

“What? Not even a little salty?” he asked weakly. 

“Shocking, even I didn’t think you would stoop this low Keith,” Lance tutted disapprovingly. Keith’s eyes narrowed, something clicking in his head with  _ Lance  _ and  _ prank _ , and he made a swipe for Lance’s plate. Lance got it just out of reach.

“Hey-!”   
“Give it-!” 

Keith got a bite of Lance’s food and immediately spat it out, spinning to glare at him. “You! You did something to my mouth!” 

Lance raised an eyebrow, grinning mischievously and Keith interrupted him before Lance could say anything, bright red as his words settled in.

“Shut up! I meant you broke my taste buds!” 

“Keith, even I, a science pleb, know that is scientifically impossible. Pidge back me up here,” Lance said. He wasn’t as good as Keith was at keeping a smirk down though. 

“I mean, theoretically there is probably something that could trick Keith’s taste buds to only sense salty,” Pidge said slowly, thinking. “I don’t know how Lance would be able to figure it out though.”

“Ok, that’s rude. Warranted, but rude.” 

“Do you mean anything you taste is salty?” Allura asked, intrigued. She shoved a bowl of classic green goo, which usually had the distinct taste of bland jello. “Try this!” 

“Wait, no, I don’t want to try testing it-mmph!” Shiro forced a spoonful into his mouth, making him swallow. He grimaced, glaring at Shiro. “Salty.” 

“It must be a physical manifestation of a personality trait,” Lance mused seriously. “I mean, really, Keith’s always so salty-” 

“No I’m not! And this is your fault! You broke my tongue!” 

“I can neither confirm nor deny that accusation. Any other complaints can be filed with my representative lawyer.” 

“What-” Keith glanced down, to see the mice stacked up on each other wearing something that vaguely resembled a suit. “You got the mice in on it too?!” 

It was all in good fun. It was the most fun Lance had had since living in space. 

_ (He never thought that he would ever think  _ ‘fun’  _ and immediately associate it with Keith) _

“Keith! Knew I saw that mullet,” Lance greeted cheerfully. Keith turned to look at him unimpressed. 

“Lance. What.”

“Don’t sound so excited to see me,” Lance said, bringing his hand up to his chest in mock offense. “Coran says he needs some of those pipe connections. He’s down in the main teleduv room.”

“Ok,” Keith shrugged, “you mind helping me getting some of the boxes out? I think the last one is in that airlock.” 

“Sure Keith-o,” Lance said, “I get it, sometimes you need a big, strong man for the job. Here - Hey!” Lance spluttered as the airlock door shut right in front of his face. 

“Thanks Lance!” Keith grinned, “you’re a big help!”    
And then he turned with his box and walked away. 

“Keith! Not funny! Come back!” Lance called out. He pouted when Keith turned the corner and disappeared. He wasn’t coming back, and Lance was stuck here for an indefinite amount of time until someone came around. 

Stuck. In the airlock. Shit. 

Lance turned around and stared at the closed airlock doors, keeping him from being sucked out of space just like-

_ (The airlock locked on its own trapping him inside. Keith running by, fighting the training bot. Outside doors opening. Hanging on, with no space suit, no oxygen, no-”  _

Lance shuddered out a breath and tried to inhale. It’s not the same. It’s safe. It’s safe. He was shaking. 

“Let me out! Anyone! Somebody let me out!” Lance screamed, terror wracking his body before he even realized it. He slammed his hands on the glass doors to get anyone’s attention.

“Keith! Keith let me out this isn’t funny anymore!”

The presence of the airlock doors behind him threatened to consume him, the inevitability of the space void right there-

_ (He remembered being sucked out, feeling the oxygen being sucked right out of his lungs and being able to do nothing but  _ hold on-)

He was falling, falling to the ground. It was too much, it was too much like the time he nearly didn’t make it, nearly died in a vacuum. He couldn’t breathe and it was too much. He was dying. He was dying. He was-

“Lance? Lance!” 

Firm hands grabbed his arms, but Lance couldn’t think straight to figure out what they wanted. 

“Lance, can you hear me? I need you to breathe ok? Can you breathe with me?” 

Breathing seemed so hard, especially with the void behind him, but the voice was so insistent. He gasped. 

“Good! That’s good Lance, keep breathing with me. You’re okay. You’re safe.” 

“What- Lance! Oh my god, is he okay?” another voice started, alarmed and Lance’s head was starting to get a little clearer. He could tell the voices apart. 

“He’s going to be okay. He’s okay. Lance you gotta keep breathing, I’m right here.”

Shiro, Lance realized, and immediately he felt a tension leave him. Shiro won’t hurt me, he thought dizzily, Shiro will help. He took another shaky breath, and then another, when Shiro did too. Slowly, slowly, Lance could feel his lungs working again, and his vision lost its spottiness. Shiro was crouched in front of him, Pidge standing a little bit behind him. Their hands were covering their mouth, eyes sparkling with tears. 

“Lance? You with me?” Shiro asked softly, and Lance turned to him, heaving. He was so tired. So, so tired. He swallowed, and then nodded. 

“Good,” he said, just as softly. “Can you get up? We can take you somewhere more comfortable so you can rest, get you some water.” 

“S-sorry,” Lance stuttered, “sorry I don’t know why, I just.” 

“You don’t have to be sorry Lance, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Shiro smiled, clapping his shoulder. “Did you want to talk about it?” 

Lance gaped, looking between Pidge, who looked just as concerned as they had been at the start, and Shiro, and floundered. “It’s just, the airlock, the last time I was locked in the airlock, it. Opened. I just remembered back to. Yeah. I couldn’t breathe.” 

“I see,” Shiro said, nodding, “you mean back when the castle malfunctioned?” 

Lance just nodded.

“You didn’t have a space suit then either, right? Must have been terrifying.”    
Lance just stared. Shiro was the bravest person he knew, and the one out of the team that had gone through the most. Everything the galra had done to him was a nightmare, so him acknowledging being sucked out into space would be scary was-

Liberating. It felt like a huge weight of shame had just been lifted off his shoulders.

“Yeah,” Lance said, “yeah, it was scary. But it’s okay now.”   
Shiro smiled at him. “It’s okay now,” he repeated. 

Shiro made him go to his room to recover, and told Pidge to not bother him, he just needed to rest, before leaving Lance alone. Yet, he had only laid down for ten dobashes before there was a knock on his door. He heaved a sigh as he lifted himself off the bed.

“Pidge, I’m okay, I promise- oh.” Lance cut himself off as he opened the door. “Uh, come in?” 

Keith passed him, and then turned around to face him, his arms crossed and his posture hunched over. 

“Um, are you, are you actually okay?” he asked as Lance closed the door. He glanced up to Lance before looking down again nervously. 

“Yea, don’t worry about it, I’m fine. I’ve had worse.”

Keith winced, as if that made the whole situation worse. “I’m really sorry,” he blurted out, his hands shaking, “really, I’m so sorry. I would have never have done that if I had known, Shiro told me what happened and I realized that it was my fault, but it was supposed to be-”

“It was a supposed to be a prank,” Lance smiled weakly, “I know. I know you didn’t want - that.”    
Keith shoved his hands into his pockets and looked down. “Doesn’t make it any better.” 

Lance watched Keith, scrutinizing the way he refused to look Lance in the eye, the way he was high strung in tension, the way his mouth was stuck in a firmer frown that usual. He looks miserable, Lance thought at the same time he realized, he really means that. He’s being sincere.

“You really mean that,” Lance mumbled softly without realizing it.

Keith’s head shot up, looking alarmed, if not a little angry. “Of course I mean it,” Keith glared, “I wouldn’t hurt you. You’re my  _ \- our - _ teammate. You’re our friend.”  

Lance blinked. “We’re friends?” 

Keith just gaped. “Of course we are! Or, I think we are. I have... fun with you. I’ve never had a friend that can handle my taunting and give as good as they get. Besides maybe Shiro but he’s different.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

This isn’t how I expected this to go, Lance thought faintly.

“Okay. We’re friends then. So it’s okay,” Lance finally said, “I forgive you. Because that’s what friends do.” 

“So, that’s it?” Keith asked, disbelieving. 

“That’s it,” Lance replied slowly. “I accept your apology.” 

Keith stood limp, still not quite understanding. Lance almost asked what had happened to make Keith so inept at communication and relationships, but thought better of it. 

“If you still feel bad,” Lance said instead, “I am willing to, ahem,  _ acquiesce,  _ to certain favors, like doing my laundry, hand-feeding, gifts-”

“Fuck off Lance,” and Keith smiled fleetingly, finally loosening up and Lance silently cheered. He didn’t know when he started feeling sick whenever he saw Keith upset, but now, the longer Keith was uncomfortable, the more Lance wanted to make it all better. 

“However, this does mean I won the prank war, because I was the one who last had an actual prank and not a terror-inducing -”

“Lance-”

“Traumatizing-”

“Bitch.”

“Distressing-”

“Ok, ok, you win!”


	4. Pragma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pragma.  
> (/` prâgma/)  
> -practical love

_pragma._

_(/`_ _prâgma/)_

_-practical love_

 

 _Psychologist John Alan_ _Lee defines pragma as the most practical type of love.... [It] is a convenient type of love._

 

The first time Lance killed someone with his bare hands, an actual living being, a galra soldier, he had thrown up in Blue while the team was heading back to the castle. He had turned off his comms, so that he could still hear the team’s cheerful post-battle chatting but they couldn’t hear his heavy breathing. Blue had given him a push of concern, but he weakly waved it off. No one else freaked out as much as this. No one else was as weak. He just needed to get over it.

“It’ll get easier,” Lance had muttered to himself, trying to catch his breath. “Isn’t there that saying, after the first time it gets easier? It’ll be easier next time.”

_(It didn’t get any easier.)_

Eventually, the only way he was able to justify the killing was that it was a eat or be eaten war. If he didn’t fight back, he would be struck down. Or worse, his friends would.

It was how he justified his quiet, constant sniping, picking away at the enemy ranks, one by one.

“Lance! On your six!”

Lance spun around on his knee just in time to stop the spear in its sweeping arc with his bayard. He leaned back, lodged his foot right under the chest plate of the galran soldier, and kicked them out within close shooting range, but right before he drew his weapon up, another, brighter purple strike took them down. The soldier crumpled to the ground and Keith recovered his stance behind them.

“You’re welcome,” Keith told him. Lance looked up at him and reacted before even processing, bringing his bayard into position to shoot down the soldier sneaking up behind Keith, his laser whizzing past Keith’s left ear to hit the enemy’s helmet front and center.

“Don’t mention it,” Lance retorted, as he got up, right before the ground shook under them and Lance lost his balance. Keith held out his hand for him to take and helped him up.

“Keith, Lance, you’ve got two minutes to get to your lions before the base blows! Fall back!” Shiro’s voice crackled in both of their intercoms, alerting them that the mission was still a go.

Keith glanced at their way out, a single, narrow exit teeming with galran reserves coming their way, and then back at Lance.

“Think you can keep up?” Keith smirked. He readied his bayard, and cracked his neck.

Lance stuck out his tongue, brushing himself off. “Think you’ll ever stop talking?”

“Hey, that’s my line.”

Then, without hesitation, they charged.

+++

“You have to admit,” Lance said, back in their respective lions flying back to the castle. “That was pretty awesome fighting.”

“No thanks to you,” Keith immediately replied, a laugh in his voice.

“Asshole.”

“But, I guess you’re right,” he conceded, “we make a really good team.”

“That we do,” Lance agreed. He couldn’t explain why he was grinning so hard.

_(Because here’s the thing. Killing did not get any easier. But killing to keep friends alive certainly did.)_

+++

Lance didn’t notice the change until Hunk had offhandedly mentioned after a session how much better his scores in the training regimen were when he was partnered with Keith.

“I mean, obviously? Two people are better than one,” Lance pointed out, bemused.

“Nah, man, I mean compared to everyone else. Your times are so much better when you’re paired with each other rather than with anyone else on the team. It’s the same for Keith, he use to work the best with Shiro but it’s you now.”

Lance blinked, not entirely sure what to say to that. What that means. “Huh.”

“It’s cool man,” Hunk continued, sensing Lance’s unease, “just means you work really well together fighting. It’s pretty sick to watch, I won’t lie. It’s like you’re both exactly what the other needs.”

Lance struggled to keep a smirk off his face, “Hunk...”

Hunk immediately noticed the change in tone and backtracked, “Oh fuck, no whatever you’re thinking I don’t-”

“Hunk that’s gay.”

“That’s not what I meant-”

“Are you insinuating I’m a homosexual.”

“Lance you’re bi-”

“Because that was pretty fucking homosexual.”

Hunk closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fuck. Why do I even bother,” was muttered and then he walked away, leaving Lance alone in the training room to think.

“Exactly what the other needs,” Lance muttered. Before he could think better of it, he went over to the console, turning on the logs and pulling up the partner scores.

As he scrolled through, Lance noted they seemed pretty consistent. His own scores with a partner was around two and a half minutes for the bot run, regardless of the partner. With Hunk, it was 2:36, Pidge, 2:48, Shiro, 2:21, Allura, 2:32-

He stopped at the 1:57 next to his and Keith’s name. A tiny line of text stating ‘record’ flashed next to the numbers.

Lance stood there in front of the console like an idiot a lot longer than he wanted to admit.

_(Exactly what the other needs.)_

He didn’t know what to do with this.

“Lance? What are you still doing here?” a voice startled him and he spun around. Keith dropped his water and towel on the bench near the exit.

“Just looking at the stats from today.” Lance considered telling Keith about their record but for whatever reason decided against it at the last second. Instead he focused on a more pressing issue. “Are you training? Again?”

Keith just shrugged and turned to start setting up the online server for the training robots. Lance took the time to watch him, taking in account the tension in Keith’s shoulders and the fact he had skipped out on a chance to tease Lance, something about how they all can’t be as lazy as him.

He was stressed, Lance decided, or something. Upset maybe? Training was the only outlet he had. Or the only solution.

“Uh, I think the fuck not,” Lance declared without thinking. Keith spooked and gave him a confused look. Lance gave him an unimpressed one to match, crossing his arms stubbornly. “You’re not training right now. You need a break.”

“Lance-”

“Uh, uh uh,” Lance interrupted. He shut off the training program Keith was trying to start up from his console and made his way to Keith. “I’m not taking no for an answer.”

“You’re such a bitch,” Keith grumbled, annoyed, but allowed Lance to frog-march him out of the training room only confirming what Lance had deduced.

“I know, it goes great with my outfit.”

Keith let Lance drag him to Lance’s room, but stayed by the door once inside, uncomfortable and not doing much to hide it.

“Relax,” Lance said, rolling his eyes as he rummaged around his closet, “I’m not making you do a face mask or something.”

Keith snorted and uncrossed his arms. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Oh I will. We have to reach level nine friendship first though. It’s in the handbook, just ask Hunk.” He made a sound of triumph when he found what he was looking for. Lance tossed the second controller to Keith, who caught it easily. “You ever play?”

Keith squinted at the game controller Pidge and Hunk had made to resemble an xbox controller.

“Back on Earth, yeah. My roommate in the Garrison dragged me into it if he needed a second player.”

“Good that means I won’t feel bad for not taking it easy on you.” Lance booted up the screen and game. Keith blinked at the title when it started.

“Is this... knock off Super Mario Bros?”

“Hey,” Lance punched Keith in the shoulder, “we respect what we can get in space.”

“Looks like I’ll have to go easy on you,” Keith rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck, startlingly similar to how he got ready for a good fight. “I’m a goddamn pro at Super Mario Bros.”

Lance stared at him and then laughed. “Aw, that’s cute. I’ve played this game with my older brothers since I was six. Pro? I’m a fucking god.”

“No one likes a man who’s all talk Lance.”

“I’ll show you a fucking man.”

Somewhere in between the 8th and 11th round, Lance sneaked a glance at Keith, who was grinning, excited, happy. Lance watched as he shook out the hair in his face but didn’t take his eyes of the screen, then relaxed his shoulders again, leaning closer to the game.

He looked less like a war-hardened soldier and more like what he was. A competitive nineteen year old getting his ass kicked in Super Mario Bros.

Mission accomplished, Lance thought to himself smugly, before making a sound of protest when Keith pushed him off the edge of the screen. He didn’t have it in him to pissed though, not when Keith’s victorious laughter filled his room.

+++  
After the game, it was like a dam that hadn’t need to be there had finally burst. Lance was confused, sure, but not willing to look a gift horse in the mouth. Whatever he and Keith were now, it was comfortable. Easy. He wasn’t the guy he would go to for emotional support maybe, because Keith still didn’t like to talk, but Lance saw the other ways Keith cared, maybe without even realizing it himself. It was in the way Keith would bring two juice pouches instead of one when he came back from the kitchen. Or how whenever Lance found himself becoming overwhelmed with close-range fighters on the battlefield, Keith materialized to help. Or the clap on the shoulder when Lance felt too homesick.

It was convenient. Easy. Arguing became banter, and sometimes, banter had casual interwoven praise. Slowly enough, Keith became dependable. One was there for the other because in a space castle with seven inhabitants total, no one else was. Hunk and Pidge had each other, and Coran, Allura, and Shiro, though kind, were just untouchable. Lance had mentally put Keith up in that category originally too, until he had seen the idiot try to bribe the mice for the location of Hunk’s hidden cookies. Any semblance to hero worship Lance might have had disappeared pretty quick after that.

Either way, Lance could count on Keith to fit him into whatever he was doing (usually training) and Lance did the same. He dragged him to the pool, once they figure out how to get to deal with the whole upside down factor. They had a weekly game night. If they were on a planet, one could ask the other if they wanted to explore and expect a yes.

He couldn’t remember when he felt so comfortable around another person.

_(He wasn’t sure if there ever was a time to remember.)_

Lance didn’t want to know what any of this meant.

_(He was afraid it would vanish if he put a name on it.)_

“What are you thinking about?” Keith interrupted. Lance startled, and swore when the knife he was holding skidded from the crystal and cut into his palm. “Fuck!”  
“Hopefully nothing,” Keith muttered under his breath, “you don’t have the brain cells to spare.”

“Fuck off,” Lance shot back with no heat, dropping the knife and and wincing at his hand. “It wasn’t important.”

Keith huffed, and held out his hand. “Here, let me see.”

Lance gave him the injured hand and let him inspect the wound. Keith frowned and shrugged before reaching for his water bottle and cloth. He wet the cloth and then took Lance’s hand again, gently wiping away the blood from the cut. Lance swore he wasn’t staring. Really.

“You’ll live,” he decided, before wrapping up Lance’s palm with the cloth. “I don’t trust you with the knife anymore though.”

“You can’t be mean to me, I was just mortally injured.”

They must have been spending a lot more time together than Lance originally thought, because Keith didn’t even bother replying and just rolled his eyes. “You think you’ll be safe with the sanding?”

Lance grumbled, “yea, yea,” before placing his knife into Keith’s expectant hand. Keith slipped back into work mode in a no nonsense kind of matter, systemically starting to cut of the crystal impurities with the knife and then placing the cut gem in between the two of them.

Lance, contrarily, did not want to work. He grudgingly held the sandpaper cloth and grabbed a crystal under the pretense of working, instead letting his head wander back into its thoughts.

Which brought him inevitably back to Earth. He rubbed the stone mindlessly as he thought back to what he could remember. Everyone seemed to be in the middle of something at the time. Daniel and Gabriela were in college when he left, Maria might have started while he was gone. Marcos and his girlfriend had just gotten engaged, and Anton’s daughter Valentina, his niece, she had just gotten her first tooth and had been damn upset about it, she must have gotten her words by now, she’s, she would be-

How old would she be now?

“Keith?” Lance asked, and he hummed to let him know he was listening, “do you know how long it’s been since we left Earth?”

Something in his tone must have spooked Keith, because he stopped working and looked up at him cautiously. “Shiro said that the algorithms estimated that a little under two years have passed on Earth,” he said smoothly. “We’ve been in space for about eleven Earth months.”

Lance nodded mechanically, but he really couldn’t feel his head moving. Two years? He knew they had been in space for a while and space travel’s weird with time and position and relativity but, two years? That means Daniel probably graduated from college by now. Have Marcos and Isabella gotten married yet? Or were they waiting for- fuck, Valentina’s three now, what are the milestones for two and three year olds? She can speak in sentences now, Lance thought weakly, or phrases, and oh my god I’ve missed it, she doesn’t know my name-

“Lance? You good?” Keith asked quietly. Lance tried a smile to reassure him. “Yea, yea. Two years huh?” He couldn’t quite look him in the eye.

Keith didn’t say anything at first but then started speaking slowly. “They’re still waiting for you. Whoever you’re thinking about. And you’ll get back to them.”

_(What the fuck did this tight hurt in his chest mean? What the fuck? What does this mean-)_

Lance swallowed, nodded, and rubbed his eye before looking down back at the crystal in his hand. His iris seemed like a brighter blue in the sheen of it.

“Your head’s not a great place to stay stuck in Lance. It’s good to remember them, remember why you’re fighting to get back and who you’re saving but. Don’t stay there too long.”

Lance stared at him, and felt a breeze of calmness. Keith was there, and solid, and logic. 

“Yeah,” Lance cleared his throat, “you’re right.”

_(When did he get so dependent on whatever this is?)_

“Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

And they started working again in silence.

_(A little part of him was kind of curious to figure out what this all meant. A little part of him already had an idea.)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I've updated. It's getting a little rushed I think, mostly because I'm trying to do more frequent updates than I'm used to (more than once a year lol). Kudos and comments literally give me fresh air to breathe! Thanks for reading


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